To Everything There is a Season

I like to watch the seasons change, and as much as I like the warmer weather of spring and summer, I do like to see the colors change in fall and winter.  Fall colors are my favorite; when the trees are red and orange and yellow, it is gorgeous.  I just wish it could happen and the temperature still stay around 70 year-round.  Sometimes I wish I liked the cold weather.  It sure would make my life easier.  It’s just too cold for me.  Don’t get me wrong, I like to ski and bundle up by the fire with a cup of hot cocoa (ooh, chocolate!).  But waking up with a sinus headache or a sore throat is not really that fun. 

Right now, I am impatiently waiting for spring.  I like watching the new flowers slowly show their pretty colors.  But, unfortunately, I’m not sure if spring will be springing any time soon here.  We get a glimpse every couple of weeks with a day of 60 degree weather.  But then it goes straight back down to the 20’s and 30’s.  Monday was President’s Day, and the kids of course had the day off from school.  We woke up to a blanket of snow on our lawn and cars.  It was very pretty, but the kids said that of course the snow day would have to be on a holiday! 

Backing up a couple of days, our daughter’s perfect eyesight is no more.  In September when school began she had a sports physical at the doctor’s office and had 20/15 vision.  Within 4 months it went to 20/25, and now, as of Friday, she is sporting a cute little pair of glasses.  At least the styles make wearing glasses seem cool now, and they don’t have those big, round, nerdy glasses from the 80’s – that was probably the worst (or best) boy repellant for me in middle school.  I hated wearing glasses, so when my parents allowed me to get contacts in high school, I was in heaven.  And now, after PRK (laser surgery), I am in whatever is above heaven.  As great as contacts were, it is even better waking up seeing my alarm clock and being able to take a shower or go swimming under water without worrying if I am going to lose a contact.  And I have 20/15 vision to boot.

On Saturday, a friend of my husband’s came for a visit.  They were in Iraq together and became good friends despite the fact that he cheers for some Bulldogs down in Georgia.  We were still good hosts even after his basketball team beat ours in the last seconds of the game.  Well, it was Valentine’s Day, and love … and chocolate … were all around.

On Sunday, we trooped down to the school fields and watched a high school lacrosse match for the first time.  Our oldest played in his first scrimmage and had a blast.  I didn’t realize how much physical contact there was in this game; it’s a combination of a lot of sports, and he was able to use skills from each of the sports that he has played.  When we got home, I immediately went on line to see what the rules were; there aren’t too many besides get the little ball into the goal, and don’t hit another player above the neck or below the waist.  The boys play with protective gear – helmet, gloves, and chest and elbow pads, so that allows the game to be more physical.  The girls only play with goggles, and they don’t allow as much contact.

On Monday, our youngest had a friend over , and they decided to play outside.  First they built a fire in our outdoor fireplace, and when that went out, decided to build a target with some of  the left over wood.  My son came in after about 5 minutes with a bloody finger saying he had cut it with the saw (fortunately, it was a small cut).  I then looked around for my husband whom I thought was supervising.  He said he was looking out the window every once in a while, but I guess he missed the blood scene.  I stood by while they finished the rest of their project, first aid kit in hand.  When they finished, my son went in search of the paint ball equipment.  As he searched, I found his friend on the back (wooden) patio, flicking a lighter.  I think my husband thought I was a little crazy for asking him not to play with it with no one else around.  Once found, the masks and protective gear were donned, and the boys proceded to blast the target with yellow paint.  Unfortunately (or fortunately?), the friend’s parents arrived soon after, and they were not allowed time to start another fun project.  My son asked me last night if his friend can come  for a sleep-over this weekend.  Maybe my sore throat will get worse…

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